


Run Boy Run

by RavenWhitecastle



Series: The Sinner and the Saint [25]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s03e23 Deus Ex Machina, GSW, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Okay so maybe I took cues from Inception, PDA, Post Samaritan, Short, So sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/RavenWhitecastle
Summary: John and Harold's world comes crashing down as Samaritan comes fully online, discovering the location of their headquarters and forcing them to flee. The world they wake up to will not be the world they left behind, but Harold worries about what other changes Samaritan's reign may bring.





	Run Boy Run

It was dawn when John and Harold arrived back at the library, John glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure they weren’t followed, and Harold bleeding from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. No one stopped them, no one shot at them. They slipped into their sanctuary, and on one paid them any mind.

John worked as carefully as he could to patch Harold up once they were settled. His heart had stumbled when he’d heard Harold cry out on that rooftop, worried he might have been too late. He was relieved to find that the bullet wound was through and through, and the projectile hadn’t hit any bone. John’s heart clenched every time Harold winced or gasped in pain, but it was a necessary evil. 

“That’s good enough for now," John said, wrapping up his bandaging work, “Have Shaw take a look at it when she gets back.” He sighed and gently touched Harold’s back. “First time’s the worst, huh?” John draped Harold’s jacket over his shoulders.

Harold looked up at his partner. “Why would you ever choose a career where this was an occupational hazard?”

“Well, I tried to quit,” John teased, “but some jackass told me I needed a purpose.” John’s lips twitched, hinting at a smile.

Harold studied his partner. John looked tired. Harold felt a pang of empathy. How often had he patched John up and washed John’s blood off of his hands? It never got easier, stitching his lover back up, but he hadn’t often imagined that the roles would be reversed. Harold opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Harold answered the phone, and Root’s voice came through. “Get out of the library,” she said, “It isn’t safe there anymore, Harold.”

“Miss Groves? Are you and Miss Shaw-”

Root cut him off. “Card catalogue by the window, top drawer on the right. Hurry.”

John went to look in the drawer and pulled out two manila envelopes. “What’s going on?” Harold asked. 

“Your new identities are inside,” Root answered, “Destroy everything else.”

They glanced at the information the Machine had provided. “Boyfriend and boyfriend,” John noted, “Looks like the Machine’s been paying attention.”

Harold pursed his lips. “I take it your plan to stop Samaritan was unsuccessful.”

“Any chance of stopping it ended when we didn’t kill the Congressman,” Root sighed, “This was never about winning. It’s just about surviving.”

Harold and John exchanged a look. They didn’t say anything, but the glance held the thought that for the time being, it would be enough.   
They fled the library, after Harold had taken one last longing look at the space they’d all shared. John had finally pried him away with a whisper in his ear and a hand on his wrist. They fled, moving quickly to avoid being spotted. They didn’t have a chance to touch base with Root and Shaw before the Samaritan operatives showed up. John pulled Harold in the other direction. More agents were moving in. John’s eyes darted from side to side. Harold knew he was assessing the threat, evaluating his options.

Something seemed to click, and John ducked left, pulling Harold close to the wall while disposing of his suit jacket. He tossed the garment into a nearby wastebasket before closing the gap between them and pushing Harold against the building. 

“Mr. Reese, what are y-” Harold was cut off by John pressing his lips to Harold’s, taking him off guard. Confused, Harold froze, but after a few seconds, his eyes fluttered shut and he pushed back, reciprocating the kiss. He wasn’t even aware of the fading stomp of combat boots, or distant shouting and commotion from the building they’d just vacated.

After a few more seconds, John pulled away. Catching his breath, Harold murmured, “John, I’m not sure now is the best time.”

“It was a strategy,” John replied, reaching up and stroking Harold’s hair to hide his sweep of the plaza. “Agents are less likely to pay attention to PDA. Fugitives don’t have time for intimacy.”

Harold swallowed. “Oh.”

John reached down and took Harold by the hand again. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they start going door to door.” Hailing a cab, John asked, “Where’s our new home address?”

Stumbling along, Harold pulled out the phone that had been in the envelope, clean and untraceable. The house was already marked on the map for him. “It’s near the university campus,” he said, “where Professor Whistler- that’s me- lives with his boyfriend-”

“Detective Riley,” John supplied as the cab pulled up to the curb. “I wonder if Shaw’s new profession will be as fitting as ours.” They slipped into the cab. Harold was still looking at the map of the campus. John rattled off the address to a stash kit that he’d secretly buried for an occasion to just like this one. He expected Harold to say something about old habits dying hard, but Harold was still just staring at the phone in his hands. 

John noted his partner’s distraction with concern. As they cab gained speed and the now empty library fell behind, John placed his hand over Harold’s. Harold looked up to stare at him, wide-eyed and disheveled from their escape. “Hey,” John murmured, “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure out how to beat this thing, and we’ll figure out how to get our lives back.”

Harold’s eyes started shining. “I want to believe that, John,” he answered, his voice thick, “I really do.” 

“Okay, it’s okay,” John rushed to assure him. “All right, one step at a time. Let’s just get to safety first.” Falling silent, John wrapped his arms around Harold’s shoulders. They would be okay.   
John needed Harold to believe that.

_ fin _

**Author's Note:**

> So this is it- the halfway point of The Sinner and the Saint. I figured that it was appropriate to put the turning point of the series in the middle, to have equal parts pre- and post-Samaritan. It's not very long because a) there wasn't much for John and Harold to say and b) it's mostly just a plot point to make sure everything makes sense going forward. Kind of a fic patch, if you will. Keep an eye out for the rest in 2019!   
> Title from the Woodkid song of the same name.


End file.
